Slayer of Gods (19 page)

“Gather the charioteers, but quietly and with the greatest secrecy. Have them search the entire compound for signs of the
abduction, especially the garden and service buildings. I doubt there’s a trail to follow, but if there is, find me before
you follow it. If there’s no trail send the men out while it’s still dark to hunt for her.”

Meren drew closer to this man who had protected him ever since he could remember. “Abu, they mustn’t be seen trying to find
her. Bener’s life may depend upon their ability to search in concealment.”

Abu gave him a fierce look. “I swear, we’ll be as shadows inside the darkness. None will mark our passing.”

“If the evil one suspects I’ve set them on his scent…” Meren couldn’t finish, and his eyes closed again as he tried to shut
out images of horror. He felt Abu’s hand on his shoulder.

“We will find her.” “He moved away.

Meren whipped around. “Wait.” He started to pace again, then stopped to stare in anguish at the charioteer. “If he can reach
into my house and take one daughter, he can reach the others, even my sister and brother. Is General Horemheb still here?”

“I saw him as I came to you.”

“Bring him, then do as I’ve ordered.”

“Very well.”

“And Abu.” Meren said.

“Yes, lord?”

“We don’t have much time.”

They regarded each other with dread. Abu had been with him when they found the bodies of the queen’s cook and her husband and
Yamen dying in a dark street from wounds suffered at the command of this murderer of queens. The one they sought bathed in
blood as if it were sweet-scented water.

The rest of the night passed slowly for Meren, each moment an agony of wondering what was happening to Bener. He asked Horemheb
to send contingents to guard various members of his family and begged him not to ask the reason for the request. His friend
was annoyed that Meren couldn’t confide in him, but he agreed. He heard from Kysen a report of what had transpired in his
absence and marveled that he kept his sanity through the whole tale.

By the time the sun rose half the charioteers had returned empty-handed. As the morning progressed the others reported back
with the same results, and midday saw the end of Meren’s hopes. A lengthier search risked alerting the abductor. Kysen returned
from a sweep of the outer city districts haggard and unhappy.

“Not a sign of her,” he said as he dropped wearily to a cushion beside Meren’s chair in his office on the second floor.

Meren had been attempting to review the documents found at Horizon of the Aten. Bek and Dedi were plowing through stacks of
papyri. Kenro hunkered over a chipped clay tablet translating the wedge-shaped script of the Asiatics.

Running a hand through his hair Meren muttered, “I didn’t think you’d find anything.”

“Father, you’re the color of sun-bleached linen. Have you eaten?”

“What? I don’t know. I’m not hungry.”

Kysen lowered his voice. “Will he release her unharmed?”

“Has he once shown mercy since we began this cursed inquiry?”

“I should have stopped her. This is my fault.”

Meren reached down to place his hand on Kysen’s arm. “No. It would have happened no matter what you did. The evil one has
planned this maneuver for a long time.”

“What are we going to do?”

Swallowing hard in spite of a dry throat, Meren straightened. “I’m looking at every scrap of information we’ve gathered, but
I don’t think I’m going to suddenly find a sign that will reveal the identity of the evil one. It could be Usermontu. He could
have sat there eating and smirking at me while his men took Bener. It could be Pendua or Dilalu. It could be someone we haven’t
even considered yet, like Zulaya. The only one I’m sure couldn’t have done it is Yamen.”

“The murderer is desperate to attempt such a thing,” Kysen said. “I should try to find Dilalu again. Perhaps he knows enough
to lead us to our enemy.” Kysen rose. “I’ll change into my Nen clothing and go to the Caverns.”

“Take Reia with you.”

“I’m more likely to get answers alone.”

Meren’s voice crackled with irritation. “That wasn’t a request, Ky.”

“Yes, Father.”

Once Kysen was gone Meren returned to the documents he was reviewing. He had difficulty keeping his attention on what he was
doing and shutting out his fear for Bener. He was going through a collection of records from Horizon of the Aten. They dated
from late in Akhenaten’s reign, years fourteen through seventeen. Tutankhamun’s middle brother, Smenkhare, had ruled for a
brief two years before dying of an ague, and this was the fifth year of the young pharaoh’s rule. In that short time so much
had happened, and yet these documents revealed little of the turmoil and danger that had threatened Egypt.

Meren sifted through tallies of the herds of cattle dedicated to the Mansion of the Aten from year fourteen of Akhenaten.
He read a tattered sheet giving permission to transfer slaves from the royal women’s household in the Fayuum oasis to Horizon
of the Aten in year sixteen. Another papyrus contained orders to transfer deeds to new owners like the royal princesses, the
temple of the Aten, favored courtiers, and servants like the priest Thanuro, all dated year sixteen.

There was a list of traders who had been granted the privilege of dealing with the king’s household that included Dilalu. Bek
handed him a weapons supply list for one of the garrisons at a fort on the Ways of Horus that guarded the route from Canaan
into Egypt. The official who sent the supplies was Usermontu; the merchant who furnished the weapons was Dilalu.

“What does this signify?” Meren asked.

Bek shook his head. “I don’t know, lord.”

Suddenly Meren heard a yelp outside the office door. The portal slammed open, and Anath strode into the room. Behind her the
guard he’d posted was cradling his hand. Meren signaled to him to shut the door and handed the supply list to Bek.

“What did you do to my man?”

Anath smiled and held out a decorative pin with a sharp point that had been clipped to her yellow robe. “He told me I couldn’t
come in. He was offensive, but he’s learned manners now.”

“Forgive me, but I can’t see you now.”

Folding her arms, Anath eyed him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You look as if you haven’t slept. The shadows of the netherworld mark your eyes.” She came closer, frowning. “Something has
happened. The whole household is silent. Everyone is creeping about as if someone’s died. What’s wrong?”

“No,” Meren said faintly, avoiding her gaze. “Please, Anath, you must excuse me. I’ll see you later.”

Anath studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. I’ll visit Bener.”

Meren jerked around, fists clenched. “No! Leave me alone. Go away.” Behind him the scribes looked at each other, then eased
out of the room.

Anath watched them go. She contemplated the closed door for a while before approaching Meren. Her hand closed over his, and
it was all Meren could do not to shake it off and bellow at her. He wanted to rush into the streets and scream Bener’s name,
order pharaoh’s army to surround the city and search it house to house. Instead he ground his teeth together so tightly his
jaw ached.

“You might as well tell me what’s happened, my love,” Anath said with gentle firmness. “I’ll find out anyway.”

So, haltingly, with hard-won restraint, he related what had happened since he left her. When he finished he sank to the cushion
Kysen had used and buried his head in his arms, using the chair seat as a prop. A long silence ensued, and he was grateful
to Anath for knowing him well enough to allow him time to recover. He lifted his head and stared at the polished and gilded
cedar chair back.

“The message commands me to blame Yamen for the queen’s murder. I’ve thought long about it.” He looked into Anath’s sorrowful
eyes. “I can’t lie to the Golden One. I’ll have to tell him the truth.”

Anath was beside him instantly. She took his face in her hands and whispered to him.

“No, no, no, my love. Do as the evil one commands.”

Eyes bright with unshed tears, Meren whispered back, “Don’t you see? He’s going to kill her anyway. My only chance is to find
her before he does.”

Anath dropped her hands, sat back on her heels, and regarded him with a tortured expression. “Surely not, my love. Surely
he knows what you’ll do if he kills Bener.”

“That’s just it,” Meren said in a choked voice. “For once I face an enemy who doesn’t seem to fear what I can do to him, and
that may cost my daughter her life.”

Seeing his own fear mirrored in Anath’s face, Meren got to his feet slowly, turned his face away, and closed his eyes. “May
Amun help me.”

Anath came to him and put her arms around him. “Oh, Meren, I’m so sorry.” He felt a strange, sharp ache in his throat as she
gently guided his head to rest on her shoulder. Anath’s touch, her arms, her soft sympathy threatened to drive him to tears.
He hadn’t wept since he ceased to grieve for Sit-Hathor. He wouldn’t do it now when Bener needed his strength. He straightened
and stepped out of the circle of Anath’s arms.

“I can’t deceive pharaoh, and there’s no need. His majesty will understand that we must refrain from this inquiry for a while,
until Bener is safe and the evil one lulled into believing he’s won.”

“You of all people know what this drinker of blood is capable of doing should he discover your deceit. And he will find out
what you’ve done.” She threw up her hands. “Isn’t Bener’s life worth a small lie?”

Meren stared at her. “It isn’t a small lie. It’s a lie to the living god of Egypt, one that furthers the designs of a murderer.”

“But the crime is an old one,” Anath said. “Who is hurt by it now?”

“Pharaoh is hurt. All of Egypt was hurt by this crime, and if he can kill a queen, he can murder a king too. Don’t you think
I’ve been over this a thousand times since she was taken? Besides, if I lied to pharaoh he’d find out.”

“He’s only a boy, Meren. You can make him believe the lie.”

Meren shook his head. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d spent much time with him. He has the wisdom, guile, and ruthlessness
of Thutmose the Conqueror, and he can enthrall and beguile whomever he wishes. Pharaoh knows many things before I do, and
he’d find out I lied to him before two days had passed.” Meren sat down in his chair again and rubbed his forehead wearily.
“He must be told.”

Anath sighed. “I fear for Bener. Dear, funny Bener, who’s too shy to admit she likes that callow Lord Irzanen, who takes care
of everyone and asks for nothing in return. How can you risk her life?”

Meren sprang to his feet so violently that the chair shot back and tipped over. He fought the wrath that nearly overwhelmed
him, raking Anath with a hate-filled stare, his body trembling. Anath took a step backward.

“Get out,” he said.

“You’re furious because I might be right.”

“Get out, Anath, or by Amun’s staff, I’ll toss you into the street myself.”

Her eyes met his with an unblinking challenge, but after a few moments of searching his face, she walked out of the room without
another word. When he was certain she was out of the house Meren left the office and went to his bedchamber where Zar helped
him bathe and dress to go to the palace.

Meren ended up at the royal workshops near the temple of Ptah, for pharaoh had gone there to inspect the progress of the work
on his new war chariot. The workshop was a long, low building with walled courtyards in which carpenters sawed and shaped
the expensive imported wood used to form the body, shafts, pole, and wheels of chariots. Elsewhere workers cut the leather
that fastened parts together, covered the body and wheels, and formed the reins and blinkers. There was another room devoted
to the manufacture of whips.

Draped in transparent linen, gold, and carnelian jewelry and shod in fine leather sandals, Meren passed sweating carpenters’
assistants. Several held a wooden chariot shaft while another jumped on it to test its flexibility. Beneath an awning of dried
palm leaves a chariot master directed more assistants in binding wheel felloes. Walking around a stack of spokes, Meren entered
the main workroom.

Tutankhamun was standing in the center of the workroom accompanied by the treasurer Maya, Karoya, and half a dozen royal guards.
He was talking to the chief overseer and royal chariot master, who was showing off the body of the king’s new vehicle. Of gessoed
wood overlaid with gold, the compartment had been embellished with bands of precious stones and glass. The central panels
were engraved with the wings of the solar falcon, which protected the names of the king and queen. The axle, wheels, shaft,
and yoke were glossy black and inlaid with gold bands.

Meren approached and waited for Tutankhamun to notice him. He dreaded this interview, for he would have to admit helplessness,
but he’d do anything to get Bener back. Pharaoh stepped up into the chariot and bounced on the floor, testing the body’s integrity.
Meren noted with dread that he’d lost weight and seemed troubled even as he gripped the handrail, then leaned against it as
he would while firing an arrow. Raising his arms as if he held a bow, he twisted his body while bracing his legs. As he turned
he saw Meren, paused as their gazes touched. Something flickered in the king’s eyes, but he continued his sweep with the imaginary
weapon. Then he jumped to the floor, spoke a few words to the master, and waved his escort and Maya away. Craftsmen and courtiers
filed out of the room, leaving Meren to come forward and kneel beside the gold-encrusted chariot.